


Hamish

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, First Time, M/M, POV First Person, Parentlock, Post Reichenbach, Prostitues, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I handed over the child and took the note instead.  Opening it I found a short note.  “He would have wanted you to have this.”  I frowned and shook my head, unsure.  “I… I don’t understand…” I muttered to Mrs. Hudson, finding a second page.  I read.  At that moment my chest felt hollow and cold all at once and tingling froze my extremities.  </p>
<p>Mrs. Hudson stared at me in surprise.  “What is it, John?”</p>
<p>“This is… his baby… Sherlock’s baby.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hamish

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while now... I wrote the beginning a year ago and slowly filled in the rest. I may have posted the beginning someplace else with a different title (too lazy to go check). 
> 
> There were a bunch of other fics by other people at that time of "What would happen if John had to adopt Sherlock's baby when he 'knew' Sherlock was dead?" Here is my take on that.
> 
> Warning... sex... either M/M or M/F... You wouldn't know it by my work I post here, but I did start out writing M/F erotica. ^^v
> 
> Enjoy!

I was weary by the time I made it home that night. Long hours at the clinic with the latest bought of flu kept me there past my usual departure time. It was a warm summer evening and the sun was still making its way to the horizon despite the later hour. Sun or not all I wanted was to climb into bed and sleep for days. But fate or someone else had other plans.

Instead of opening the door to 221 Baker Street I stared at the bundle on the doorstep. I crouched to get a better look, years of experience giving me a sense of caution. Just because my friend was no longer alive didn’t mean my life was exempt from danger. I used a ballpoint pen to part the netting that covered the whole piece and came face to face with a sleeping infant. I admit the most eloquent I could be was in a grunt of “huh?” which woke the poor babe. Quickly I opened the door to the house and called for my landlady.

“What is it?” Mrs. Hudson asked, nervously stepping out onto the porch. “Oh dear! What is that?”

“It seems to be a baby.” I replied, reaching into the bunting to pull out the now fretting child. “Do we know of any pregnant ladies around here?”

As I pulled the child from their hiding place an envelope fell onto the porch between us. Quickly Mrs. Hudson snatched it up and stared at it. “It’s addressed to you, dear.”

I handed over the child and took the note instead. Opening it I found a short note. “He would have wanted you to have this.” I frowned and shook my head, unsure. “I… I don’t understand…” I muttered to Mrs. Hudson, finding a second page. I read. At that moment my chest felt hollow and cold all at once and tingling froze my extremities. 

Mrs. Hudson stared at me in surprise. “What is it, John?”

“This is… his baby… Sherlock’s baby.”

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. “That’s impossible… he’s been dead for too long. Two years…”

I pointed vaguely at the paper. “This says that Sherlock Holmes is the father and Irene Adler is…”

“I don’t understand… who, dear?”

“But they’re both dead!” I cried out.

The baby began to cry and Mrs. Hudson gave me a helpless look. “Perhaps you can call Sherlock’s brother? I’ll take the baby to my flat and you… you can sort this out with Mycroft, can’t you?”

Nodding numbly I made my way into the house and up to my flat for privacy.

^.~

Nervously I paced back and forth before Mycroft Holmes’ stoic form on my couch. “This child can’t be his, Mycroft. Sherlock is dead. He IS dead, isn’t he? You would tell me if he wasn’t, right?”

Mycroft stared back at me dispassionately… but then again when had I ever seen Mycroft passionate? “I can assure you the child did not come from my brother’s loins directly.” 

“Oh! That just makes so much more sense! Indirectly then? How is that even possible?” I was working myself up, trying to keep my temper in check.

“A year ago something of a personal nature that belonged to my brother had been stolen from its place in a holding facility. The thief was never caught but we have reason to believe that Ms. Adler’s contacts were indirectly involved.”

“I thought you told me that Irene Adler was dead?” I demanded. 

“It would seem my source had been incorrect.”

“So… she’s not dead and she may or may not have stolen something of Sherlock’s?” I stopped in my pacing trying to work out just what Mycroft was hinting at. “Sperm?”

“You can be so very clever if you put your mind to it.” Mycroft teased with a smirk. 

“Sherlock hated kids. Why would his sperm be stored somewhere?” I asked, annoyed.

“My brother and I are the last of our family tree that dates back....”

I growled and tried to wave away the details. “Ok, yes, YES! I get it! Without one of you the family lineage ends.” I took a deep breathe. “So… that child is Sherlock’s?”

“Yes.”

“And Irene Adler’s?”

“It would seem so.”

“And so now… It’s mine?”

“You will receive support, of course… as guardian of the sole heir to the Holmes family name you will be well taken care of.”

I shook my head, finding the situation hysterical in a way. Even from the grave Sherlock could find ways to annoy me. “This is insane! I have a career and… a career.” 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at me. “I have been told that you have not moved on since Sherlock’s death and that you still mourn him considerably.” 

The words hurt and I stared down at the rug. Even without looking I knew the flat was a veritable shrine to Sherlock, very little changed since the moment he left over two years ago… the day he didn’t come home.

“You haven’t moved on, John.”

“So?” My response was soft and a little too weak for the ache in my heart.

“You wait for his return…” Mycroft stood and looked around. “You’re still waiting for his return. What if he never comes back? What if this child is the only part of him that can come back? You obviously cared deeply for my brother… can you care for his child?”

I nodded mutely, my throat seizing up with the tears I didn’t want to shed.

“Good man. You both will be provided for… child care, better career, bigger flat… anything you need…”

“But why me?” I asked finally.

“You read Adler’s words? He would have wanted you to have this.”

^.~

“Sherlock Hamish Watson Holmes, what have you done?” I asked of the toddler who looked rather pleased with himself and the mess he made on the rug.

Mrs. Hudson giggled like a school girl. “Boys will be boys, John dear.” She caught my child and pulled him onto her lap, kissing his cheeks. 

Hamish shrieked in delight at the attention as I stooped to pick up after my son. “He’s as bad as his father.”

“Of course he is.” Mrs. Hudson chuckled, rocking Hamish in her arms. The boy reached up to pat her on the cheek. 

I finished cleaning up with a sigh and sat on my knees, watching the two with a smile. “It’s time for Nana to go home.”

“No!” Hamish whimpered, squirming to hug Mrs. Hudson tighter. “Stay!”

“It’s time for dinner, young man… and then bed. You will see Nana tomorrow.” I stood up and headed towards the kitchen to dish out my son’s dinner.

“I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, alright Hamish dear?” 

“Yes.”

“Take good care of your daddy for me, will you?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.” 

I kissed Mrs. Hudson’s cheek as she handed me my child. “Thank you. Same time tomorrow, then? The nanny gets back on Thursday.”

“Of course! Always a pleasure, John.” And with that Mrs. Hudson was gone.

Over dinner Hamish excitedly tried to tell me the latest adventures of Benny the plush skeleton that Mycroft had given him as an infant. It was a favorite lovie. “Why a skeleton?” I had asked Mycroft.

“He’s Sherlock’s son. Would you rather he dragged around poor Yorick?” And with that he nodded towards the mantelpiece that still housed Sherlock’s pet skull. I was unaware that it had a name.

“Yorick?”

“I knew him, Horatio.” Mycroft smirked and returned his attention to his nephew. 

Benny the skeleton got into many adventures, mostly thought up by our various family and friends who would come to see us. It was Hamish’s job to tell me about those adventures when I returned home from work. 

“Benny flew high! Very high! Save Nana from spider!” 

“Did he? And he wasn’t afraid?”

“No!” Hamish replied, feeding himself proudly. “Benny like spider.” 

“It sounds like Benny had a very big adventure.” I picked up my son and his Benny to carry them both upstairs. “Time for bed.”

I opened the door and stood speechless. In the doorway stood Sherlock Holmes, alive! His eyes locked onto me and he gave a wane smile. “John.”

All I could do was stare at the man I thought dead. I was in shock, I had to be. It wasn’t every day a ghost shows up at your door.

Hamish squirmed a bit against my side, bringing me back to myself. Pulling his fingers out of his mouth he pointed at the man before us. “Lock!” It was then that Sherlock noticed that I was carrying a child… his child for he had to know within an instant Hamish’s identity. 

Hastily I stepped past Sherlock and headed upstairs. “Time for bed, sweetie.” I knew even as I went about our nightly ritual that there was a presence lingering in the doorway of my old bedroom, watching me change a nappy and dress the 15 month old in his pajamas. “Goodnight Hamish.” I kissed the unruly dark curls, so much like his father.

“Night Da!” Hamish replied, kissing my cheek and snuggling with Benny. 

I closed the bedroom door and stared at my former flat mate. 

“Who is that?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know who that is.”

Sherlock shook his head. “Yes… but I don’t understand how… how he got here. Why he’s here.”

I slipped away from the door and headed back downstairs. “Did you delete human reproduction from your hard drive?” I was angry and hurt. Three years had passed and I had thought him dead. 

“From what I dimly recall there needs to be a woman involved. I ask again… how?”

“He has a name.” I turned to stare at Sherlock, tears ready to form and fists balled up tight. “His name is Sherlock Hamish Watson Holmes.”

Sherlock stared back at me, blank. 

“Irene Adler.”

“I haven’t seen her… for years.”

“Well… apparently you don’t need to be face to face to conceive a child with someone. You just use their stored sperm and voila!” I turned away from him. His confusing did something to ease my growing jealousy over Irene.

“Fucking Mycroft…” Sherlock growled. 

“So it was Mycroft’s meddling and not you on some drunken fling while you were pretending to be dead?” I snarled, unable to keep back my rage.

“I would never do that!” Sherlock replied. “I seem to recall Mycroft taking a sample from me… shit!” I heard him sit heavily upon the couch.

“Where have you been?”

“Here… there.” I turned to stare at him and his stupidly flippant answer. Finally he met my eyes. “What?”

“Here and there? I thought you were DEAD! Your brother told me you were dead that there was no way you were coming back! I gave up HOPE! And you’ve been here and there?”

“I had to, John.”

“Why? Why Sherlock? Explain it to me!”

“If I lived… or contacted you… you would be dead. Moriarty’s most powerful assassin was on your tail. He was watching your every move. There was no way I could contact you without his knowing.” Sherlock trembled… he actually trembled! “You were safer not knowing.”

“So what changed?”

“I got him… got them all. No more hiding… it’s done. We’re safe.”

I rubbed my eyes, exhausted and emotional. I needed sleep. When my vision cleared I watched Sherlock as he assessed what used to be our flat. 

“Not much has changed here.”

“Don’t be stupid. Everything has changed. I’m responsible for your son. I couldn’t do it alone… so Mycroft has been… supportive. I’m allowed to work but he would prefer if I spent more time at home. I have a nanny… someone to help with the cleaning and the cooking. I think he even tried to send me a valet. I have no clue what to do with a valet! He keeps pressuring me to move to the house with him so he can have more control over Hamish’s education. Hamish is just over a year old! Something about Holmes family progeny…”

Sherlock snorted and I couldn’t help but chuckle too. “You and your family… God! I’ve met your parents and about a dozen maiden aunts. They keep pinching my cheeks and calling me Sherly’s Cute Doctor!” 

Sherlock burst out laughing and I laughed along with him. The stress and pain seemed to melt away as I laughed along with Sherlock. It had been years since I heard his laugh. Wearily I sat down on the couch next to him. Finally our giggles subsided and I looked to my friend for a long moment. Sherlock blushed and looked away nervously. “I don’t suppose you’ll want to stay up all night watching crap telly with me?”

“Hamish gets up at 6:30 am.”

Sherlock smiled shyly and poked my side. With a sigh I turned on a DVD and settled onto the couch beside him. I fell asleep long before the closing credits.

^.~

I woke the next morning with my head on Sherlock’s chest. Somehow during the night we managed to arrange ourselves on the couch with us side by side but tangled together in the limited space. Sherlock’s arms were wrapped loosely around my neck as he slumbered.

I heard Hamish’s waking sounds in the monitor and carefully extracted myself from the couch to fetch my son. “Hey there, handsome!” I greeted the bright eyed toddler. “You let daddy sleep in until 6:45? Sherlock kept daddy up late. Yes, he did! Some movie with fast cars and hot babes and spies… yes, spies! Don’t forget Benny!” I changed his wet nappy and brought him downstairs with me.

Sherlock was sitting up on the couch. “Hot babes and spies?”

I smirked, realizing the baby monitor had been on and he heard me talking to Hamish. “Incoming!” I dropped a squirming Hamish onto his father’s chest. The child squealed with glee at meeting a new playmate. “I’ll go make him breakfast… want anything?”

“No… of course not.” Sherlock replied as he had Benny the skeleton shoved into his face. “Ack!”

“Say hi Benny!” Hamish demanded.

I set a bowl of cereal and a spoon on the table as I watched my son attack his father… with a smug thought that he deserved everything the child threw at him.

“John!” Sherlock cried out.

“No Benny!” Hamish replied, whacking Sherlock in the face with his toy and giggling like an imp.

I caught the child before he could cause further damage. “We don’t hit people, Hamish.” I carried him to his high chair and strapped him in before giving him his breakfast.

Hamish used his spoon to try and feed Benny, humming away and oblivious to the tension he caused.

I sat on the chair beside him and stared back at my former flat mate.

“I was never that small…” Sherlock announced as he sat up properly on the couch.

I chuckled in amusement remembering the family albums that had been forced into my hands. “You forget… I’ve met your mother and she kept a fairly large record of your early years.”

“She must have been mistaken… or perhaps she showed you Mycroft instead.”

“It was you… naked and covered in mud.”

“Oh God!” Sherlock moaned as he covered his face in his hands. “This is why I did not want you to meet the rest of my family.”

“Well… that’s what happens when I become the guardian of your progeny… heir to your fortune. Isn’t that right, Hamish?”

“Lock!” Hamish crowed, dropping cereal on the floor.

“It’s SHERlock, dearest.” I smiled at my son.

“S’lock!” My son seemed to prefer the Vulcan alternative to his father’s name.

“Knock knock!” Mrs. Hudson called as she opened the door and looked in. It took her several steps into the room to realize that Hamish and I had company.

“Nana!” Hamish held up his arms to be lifted out of his high chair.

“Goodness!” Mrs. Hudson gasped, her attention no longer on my toddler. It took her a moment to look to me for conformation. 

I nodded and released my son from his confinement. Setting him on the floor I let him run to his Nana. 

Mrs. Hudson picked up the boy and looked helplessly between Sherlock and me. Finally she settled for Sherlock. “Where have you been, young man?”

Sherlock seemed to shrink and shook his head. “I’ve been… protecting you… and John.”

“Protect us? By breaking our hearts?” For a moment she seemed flustered about losing her temper and she focused on Hamish. “He needed you.” It wasn’t clear who exactly she was referring to. 

Sherlock bit his lips and stared down at the coffee table, unable to meet her critical gaze. 

I was more than a little surprised at how protective Mrs. Hudson could be when it came to Hamish… of course she was part of our family, taking part as honorary grandmother to Hamish this past year. “You’ve been very naughty, Sherlock… very naughty indeed!” Kissing the little boy’s temple she looked to me. “Will you be going to work today, John Dear?”

The thought of work didn’t even occur to me in the excitement of Sherlock’s return. I couldn’t imagine spending the day away from home wondering if my former flat mate would be there when I got back. “I… I think I’ll call in a family day…”

“I’ll still take Hamish, then?”

“Yes… that would be fine. Sherlock and I…” We what? We had to talk. Changes had to be made. Really he couldn’t expect to waltz back into my life without a few ground rules, could he? I had a child to raise… HIS child!

“Take as long as you need. I can keep him overnight if it comes to that.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.” I got up and went to her, kissing my son on his cheek. “Be good for Nana.” 

Hamish presented me with his Benny and I kissed the skeleton too. “Bye Da!”

I kissed my landlady’s cheek and sent her away before turning to Sherlock.

Sherlock seemed to curl up into himself. 

With a sigh I sat down on the sofa beside him. 

“She’s angry with me.”

“Yes… that’s what happens when you fake your death.” 

“I did it for her… and you.”

“Mm…” I flexed my toes against the coffee table.

“I came back as soon as I could…”

“Sherlock…” I interrupted him and caught his eye. Again he seemed to shrink under my critical gaze. 

“What?”

“I’m raising your son… yours and Irene’s. Do you have any idea what it’s like to arrive home and find a basket on your doorstep containing a child fathered by your dead best friend and a woman you thought was dead?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I can’t say I have…”

“I can tell you… it was horrible. I began to wonder if you were alive somewhere… being irresponsible and shagging a secret girlfriend somewhere. When Mycroft told me it was your semen sample I felt… better… but I always wondered… what if? What if he’s out there having the time of his life while I’m stuck raising his kid? It would be just like you to go mess around while leaving me with the responsibility of your actions.”

“But I didn’t…”

“But he’s so much like you… he’s brilliant! And he looks like you. I really don’t see any of Irene in him at all. It’s like I’m daddy to a miniature version of you. He’s truly amazing, Sherlock… She gave him your name, did you know that? His original birth certificate names him as Sherlock Holmes II. When I officially adopted him I added Hamish and Watson for his middle names.” I shook my head, my vision begin to blur as I spoke of the past. “I couldn’t call him Sherlock… when I call him Hamish I can pretend he’s just as much my son as yours… but I couldn’t call him by YOUR name. It hurt too much.”

Sherlock’s knee lightly tapped mine as we sat together. “I’m sorry John…”

Hastily I wiped away my threatening tears to look at him properly. He looked miserable. Lightly I patted his knee to reassure him. “So… what are your plans?”

Sherlock gave me a broken look. “I’ve… come home?” His face took on a panicked look. “Is there any room for me here? My room? My things?”

“I kept your things. Some of them had to be sent to storage when Hamish became mobile… but I kept them in case he ever wanted to know about his father.” I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Most of your clothes went to storage too… I needed space when I took over your room and turned my old room into the nursery… But most of your stuff is still here. Yorick…” I pointed to the skull. “Your bats and bison skull…” I pointed out those as well… some tucked up into higher corners, away from little hands.

As I spoke there seemed to be a rising panic in Sherlock. “So… I can’t come back?”

“What are you talking about? I just had to move a few things… your chemistry set mostly and some of your clothes.”

Sherlock gave me a hurt look. 

“I tried!” I insisted. “Ask Mycroft. I tried to keep everything as it was. I did it for years, Sherlock… YEARS! Your bedroom was a shrine to you… but then when Hamish came and I needed to put him somewhere… we turned my old room into a nursery and I took your bedroom. And then when Hamish started to reach for things I had to put some of your more dangerous things away or up higher.”

“Where am I to sleep, John?” It was a simple question… tinged with sadness and despair. It floored me because it never really occurred to me that THAT was what he was thinking about during my defensive monologue.

“Where do you want to sleep?” I asked, knowing he would never choose the couch or the nursery.

“It seems my bed is taken…”

“It’s a double bed.” I reminded him, remembering a night in Dartmoor ages ago.

“It is a double bed.” Sherlock conceded with a soft sigh at the end of his statement.

“Until we figure something out… I don’t mind sharing. We shared the couch last night. We shared that bed in Dartmoor on the night you actually slept… I’ve been sharing the bed with your ghost for the past year…” The last remark was meant as a tease and I grinned at him impishly in hopes of raising his spirits. “We’ll make it work.”

Sherlock suddenly turned away to stifle a yawn and I remembered just how late we went to bed the previous night and how early we woke for Hamish. 

“Have you been sleeping lately?”

Sherlock shook his head in the middle of another yawn. “Haven’t had time…”

I got up from the sofa and held out my hand to him. “Come on… back to bed.”

Sherlock gave my hand a worried look before looking up at me. “I’m… fine…”

“You’re exhausted… something a little nap on the couch won’t fix. Come along.” I offered my hand again and was delighted when he took it to stand beside me. I led him to the bedroom and opened the door. 

Sherlock looked around at the décor I didn’t really change. The only real change were photos of Hamish on the night stand otherwise there was little to see that was different from when Sherlock slept there. 

I led him to the bed and helped him take off his shoes and socks. His fingers went to his shirt and started to unbutton and I tried not to watch as he removed the shirt and then his trousers. Holding open the blankets I tucked him in. “Comfy?”

Sherlock scooted to the opposite side of the bed before relaxing. “Yes…”

“Good.” I turned off the light.

“John?” Really he didn’t have to finish his question… I could hear it in his voice, a sort of panic and neediness. 

I removed my own shoes, trousers and button down, leaving on my vest and pants. I slipped into the spot that Sherlock had originated from before scooting over. Sherlock’s gaze somewhat unnerved me as I got comfortable… feeling like he might pounce at any minute. I rolled onto my side, back to him and closed my eyes. It would be nice to take a nap without worrying about Hamish. Very soon I was asleep.

^.~

I woke up in a sweaty tangle of limbs. It took me a few moments to remember why I was in bed with Sherlock Holmes, his arms wrapped around my waist and my legs tangled with his. It had been this way at Dartmoor… waking to find myself almost overwhelmed by a very clingy flat mate. We never really spoke about it. There were odder things in life than waking up spooning your best friend.

Sherlock was curled up behind me, his hands absently exploring my chest as his nose and mouth blew hot, moist air against the base of my neck. I pressed back against him and his face moved to tuck up against my shoulder. A hand lightly teased one of my nipples, causing it to pebble. 

At least in Dartmoor we were only tangled together… Sherlock had never fondled me before… not until now. I shut my eyes and tried desperately to even out my breathing and feign sleep, curious to know just how far he would push things if I pretended to be unaware.

The hand that explored my chest slowly slid down until it found my crotch, squeezing me. I fought to control my breathing, feeling all my blood rush to my cock. A small huff of warm air against my shoulder and Sherlock’s hand boldly pushed into my pants to caress me skin to skin, encouraging me to grow fully in his warm palm. A whimper escaped my friend as he fisted me from root to tip, his own hips pushing against my rump to show he was equally hard.

For a moment I was lost, unsure what to do or how to react. If I let it known that I was actually awake Sherlock would pull away and pretend it was all an accident. If I lay still he would continue until I made a mess of myself. I ached to feel his touch and yet I was afraid of encouraging him. 

I compromised by reaching down and back almost innocently to grab at one of his ass cheeks as if to steady him. 

Sherlock stopped his movements, panting lightly against my neck. I could feel his heartbeat race against my back. 

My fingers hooked on his waistband, attempting to pull down his pants. Sherlock’s hand pulled away from me and I felt movement as he took the hint to remove his own pants and then he pulled down mine. I felt his cock against my ass and I pressed back against him, moving my hips in such a way I hope encouraged him. 

His hand returned to squeeze me. I relaxed against him. It had been years since I had a sexual partner… there was something just a little odd about my first sexual experience after Sherlock’s death be Sherlock himself. But he was the father of my child… we were to raise our child together… he was a part of my life and I loved him. The man broke my heart but I still loved him. 

I moved away to pull off my shirt and looked back at him. Sherlock’s eyes were wide and his breath labored. I lay back down, facing him and casting one of my legs over his as we stared at each other. It seemed for all his bravado curled up behind me when face to face he was scared. I reached out to lightly touch a cheekbone and for a moment he seemed to relax at my caress. It occurred to me that he was too frightened to make love face to face. I leaned in and kissed the corner of his lips before turning around again and pressing my back into his front. Taking one of his hands I wrapped it around me as I scooted back, ass to crotch.

“John…” My name was warm and moist against my shoulder. I shivered at the intensity. I reached down to touch his hip, directing him in a lazy thrust against me. His own hand caught my hips to keep me from moving as he rubbed up against me. “I don’t…” With a frustrated sigh he tugged at my leg to open my knees, sliding himself down between my upper thighs. With an experimental thrust he whimpered an “oh fuck…” into my neck. “Why am I doing this?” His hips moved, using my upper thighs as a means to feel surrounded by me. “I shouldn’t want this…” His hand went to my cock and resumed the pumping.

“Sherlock…” I breathed, rolling my head back against him. His tip kept bumping up against my scrotum. I wanted to feel him more deeply but this position was satisfying enough, especially with the sounds he made, grunting and moaning into my ear. 

Sherlock pulled away and nearly threw himself across the bed, wrists digging into his eye sockets as he fought to regain control. His penis was red and hard against his hip as his belly indicated his gasping breaths. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

I sat up to face him. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Pulling his hands away from his eyes he gave me a miserable look. “What do you mean there is nothing wrong with me? LOOK at me!” Vaguely he indicated his raging hard on. “Is it going to be like this every time I share a bed with you? Or don’t you remember Dartmoor?”

“You were a little clingy at Dartmoor… but it was no different than how we woke up this morning.”

Sherlock made a face and closed his eyes. “This is just… transport.”

“Sherlock…” I reached out to lightly touch his side and he flinched at my touch so I pulled my hand away. I scooted closer to lie beside him, curled on my side to face him. “Sherlock…?”

Sherlock finally opened his eyes to look at me… his pupils still dilated with lust and hunger.

I scooted closer to him, resting against his side, my cock pressed against his hip and my head cradled against his armpit. My leg rested over his. My hand wrapped around his waist and I closed my eyes, taking in his scent. Over time his bed had lost his scent even though I delayed in washing the bedding for as long as possible. “It may be just transport…”

Sherlock gave a put upon sigh and rubbed his face with the back of his hand. The arm I used as a pillow wrapped around me and we lay in silence for a time. 

“I don’t mind… if you don’t.” Almost lazily I reached down to take him in my hand, stroking his heated flesh. His hand reached down to stop mine. 

“Maybe I should move out…”

I felt my eyes burn and a lump form in my throat immediately. “No… Hamish needs…”

“Hamish barely knows me!” Sherlock snapped.

“Then how about me? I need you.”

Sherlock went silent… and I couldn’t help but notice he also went limp in my hand. 

I buried my face against his shoulder, taking in more of his musky scent. My hand rested on his belly, feeling his breaths. “You belong here… this is your home.”

“Do I, John? Do I belong here in what used to be my bed?”

I stared back at him, unsure what to say. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and rolled over onto his side, facing away from me. I curled up behind him in an approximation in what I had woken to, my breath on his neck and my legs tucked up behind him. My hand remained on his belly. “Is touching me really so horrible?” I whispered into his ear and kissed his shoulder. “Are you so repulsed by the effect I have on you?” 

“It’s just transport…”

His answer disgusted me and I rolled away and clung to the pillow on my side of the bed, feeling broken and hollow inside from his rejection.

When Sherlock remained silent I got up from the bed and pulled on my clothes. 

^.~

Mycroft sat in what used to be Sherlock’s chair. Over the past year many had come to claim that chair since it faced mine. 

We both sat in silence without even a greeting when he came to my door. I let him in and we sat, staring at the other’s shoes. Finally after almost 15 minutes Mycroft set down his umbrella beside the chair to tent his fingers under his chin, continuing to stare at my shoes.

Finally after 18 minutes I had to say something. “Did you know?”

“Yes.” His answer was immediate and final and we continued to stare at each other in silence.

As if on cue the bedroom door opened and Sherlock stepped out, wrapped up in my bathrobe that didn’t quite fit him. The man froze, taking in my standoff with his brother. Both Mycroft’s and my eyes went to him as he stood, gaping like a fish. It seemed he could be surprised into inelegance. “John… have you seen my robe?” Sherlock looked to me.

“Check the back of the closet on the left.” I replied. 

Sherlock nodded but stayed where he was. 

I suddenly felt just a little cruel and angry at his previous slight towards me. “Sherlock plans to move out. Perhaps you can help him find a place…”

“Hmm?” Mycroft regarded me with some amusement. “Doesn’t want to live here?”

“It’s the bedroom situation…” I explained. “There’s only two bedrooms. Hamish has one and I have the other.”

“Well that is unfortunate…” Mycroft mused. “He can always move in with me.”

“I’d rather die…” Sherlock muttered.

Mycroft pretended he didn’t hear that. “Or perhaps he can live in my flat and I’ll come live with you, John… I can be closer to my nephew.”

For a moment I pondered that. “Where would you sleep?”

“With you.” Mycroft grinned wickedly. “Unlike my brother I know what people do in bed together.”

“You will do no such thing!” Sherlock growled.

“I think I would like to share a bed with John Watson. He is rather… appealing AND he’s the guardian of my heir.”

The idea both titillated me and disgusted me… and yet seeing the look on Sherlock’s face I could easily play along to get a rise out of him. “I cuddle in my sleep…”

“I would enjoy that… feeling your legs wrapped around me as I…”

“Stop!” Sherlock snarled. “You are NOT sharing a bed with John!” Pointing an accusing finger at Mycroft he glared at the both of us.

“I know mother taught you it was impolite to point.” Mycroft smirked. “So… how about it, John? I’ll move in and Sherlock can…”

“You will not move in, Mycroft!”

“Oh come now, Sherlock… you can’t expect me to pay for THREE flats. And besides… someone should be here to help John take care of your baby. Molly perhaps? She’s fond of you, John.”

“Molly?” I replied. Every time Molly visited she became misty eyed when faced with Sherlock’s child born of another woman. “Don’t you think she’s a little jealous of Adler?”

“Ah yes… that is true. I suppose the logical candidate would be… me. Since you won’t come live with me I’ll stay here with you. Hamish needs a family figure from his own bloodline to guide him. I would be honored.” Mycroft chuckled and gave Sherlock dirty looks. “And you need a companion. How long has it been since you’ve… had a date?”

“Oh… it’s been more than three years.” I replied. “It’s a little tough with a baby and before that… well…”

“I would wine you and dine you… such pleasures I could give you, John. The places I would take you… the sights you’d see at my side. We’ll raise Hamish as our own and he’ll never want for anything. I already provide for you both… I would make a satisfying father and husband.”

From the look in Mycroft’s eyes I suddenly realized he was serious. For years he had hinted at it, especially after Sherlock died and then again after Hamish showed up on my doorstep.

“NO!” Sherlock stood between us. “You will not touch him! Get out of my chair!”

“Your chair? I thought you were moving…” Mycroft mused. As he reached down for his umbrella he got up and reached across to take my hand. “I would gladly share your bed, John Watson… anyone who wouldn’t is a fool.” With a smile he pulled away and was herded out the door by Sherlock.

I stared at the door with conflicting emotions. Mycroft would provide stability and support for a growing child. I wasn’t sexually attracted to Mycroft but otherwise…

Sherlock glared at me, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re thinking about it.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have a child to raise. I have to think about him and his needs. Mycroft would provide them. You know what? Mycroft HAS been providing everything we needed ever since Hamish showed up. That’s more than I can say about YOU!”

Sherlock shook his head. “You can’t… physically WANT Mycroft.”

“Why the hell not? He’s… willing! I’m old, I have a child and he’s still willing to touch me! It’s not like I’ve had any candidates beating down my door. Usually the whole child thing makes them run.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to put myself in Sherlock’s place. Yes, I was considering a relationship with his brother… But… “Sherlock… I’m not like you. I need companionship. Being a single father has been… it’s tough. You’ve already let me know you don’t want to be here… that you don’t want me. So it’s kinder just to go now… and we’ll pretend you never came back.”

I closed my eyes but I could hear Sherlock’s gasp. 

“You’re not ready for this… for a family. You didn’t even know you had a son until last night. But I have to think about what’s best for him. Mycroft keeps telling me he needs another parent. So… I think it’s for the best that Mycroft was the parent and you were just the uncle.”

“He’s my son.” Sherlock whispered and I finally opened my eyes to look at him. “He’s the piece of me you’ve been holding onto this past year. How can you let that go and pretend he’s Mycroft’s?”

I shook my head. “He’s not Mycroft’s… but Mycroft is better suited to help me raise him. Mycroft… offers.”

“Mycroft will share a bed with you.” Sherlock replied. “Did you ever think that maybe he doesn’t want to shag you either but he knows it is the way to gain control of Hamish? Mycroft would fuck a horse if it meant getting him something he wants!”

“So I’m a horse?” I cried at his implication. 

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Hurt, I left the flat.

^.~

The prostitute was warm and gentle. She knew how to touch me to ease my pain. “It’s alright, Love…” Her whispers were soft and soothing as I lost myself in her. It had been years since I was with anyone. I was amazed I could even remember how to fuck properly. Her breasts were soft and natural as I kissed them, suckling her nipples. Why would I even imagine being with a male? I’ve always loved breasts. I love the way they fill my hand… and the way that women moan when I kiss them. I also loved the way my dick slid easily into them… so warm and wet. I couldn’t feel the wetness now, my condom made it difficult to feel. I also loved that if you teased a woman’s clit just right she would come undone. My fingers reached down to play with her. “Oh! Oh God…” Her moans were loud in my ear as I thrust into her. 

“Do you want me?” I whispered.

“Yes! Oh God… yes!” Her arms and legs pulled me in and I could feel her pulsing at my fingertips as her vagina squeezed me softly. 

I closed my eyes and allowed my own orgasm to take me.

^.~

I woke up alone in the hotel room. For a moment I wondered if the previous night had happened… if I really fucked a prostitute I had randomly found on the street. 

Sitting up I rubbed the sleep from my face. On the nightstand there was a note. “Dear John…” Did I ever tell her my name? “I had a great time last night. My boss, Mr. Holmes, wants you to call him when you get up. XOXO, Katie. P.S. Contact Mycroft if you need my professional services… I would be very happy to provide!” In that moment I felt cold dread down my spine. It seemed my random encounter wasn’t nearly as random as I had hoped. 

I picked up my mobile and called the elder Holmes brother. “She belongs to you.” I stated into the phone when Mycroft answered.

“Katie is a very talented as a concert pianist.” Mycroft replied. “It’s a pity your hotel room lacks a piano, otherwise she could have played for you.” 

“How did I end up with a prostitute that works for you?” I asked, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“I have employees of many… talents. It’s just a matter of placing them in the right place at the right time for you to find them.”

“Fuck…” I muttered softly.

“I’m told your love making technique is very gentle… a little vanilla. Frankly I’m a little surprised… your profile would suggest light bondage tendencies but that wasn’t the case last night.”

I was growing annoyed and just a bit humiliated. “Mycroft… don’t analyze my sexual techniques.”

“Perhaps the bondage comes in when you are with a male? Shall I send you one to find out?”

“No…” I sighed.

“Because I very easily can… what sort would you like? Tall and thin? Dark hair? Pale blue eyes? A habit for getting into trouble?” 

“You’re describing Sherlock!”

“Yes… I think I am…” Mycroft mused. 

“I’ve got to go… it’s almost check out time.” I got up from the bed and went looking for my clothes.

“Not if you have the room for another night…”

“I have to go pick up Hamish.”

“What sort of father abandons his child to go fuck a whore, I wonder?”

“Mycroft!” I snapped, switching the phone to my other ear as I reached down to pick up my pants. 

There was a knock at the door.

“That would be the other one.” Mycroft stated. “You have another night… make use of it. Hamish will be happy to visit his grandmother. Ta!” The line went dead.

The person at the door knocked again. 

I crossed the room and tried to look out the peephole but it was blocked. “Hello?”

“John… let me in!” Sherlock’s voice called through the door.

“Wait a sec… I’m not dressed!” I replied as I started to pull on my pants.

The door knob rattled and swung open to reveal Sherlock with a second key card. For a moment he stood, staring at me as I balanced naked on one foot. Finally he entered completely and shut the door. Immediately he looked through the room, noticing the used condom in the wastebasket with a frown. Satisfied that I was alone he returned to me. 

I stared stupidly at him, one leg in my pants, the other out. 

Sherlock sat silently on the messed up bed, taking in more details. “She was a brunette… medium length hair…”

“Oh shut up!” I replied as I got my other leg into my pants and pulled them up. “You probably already know her since she works for your brother!” I picked up my vest and pulled it on. “Katie the concert pianist slash whore.”

Sherlock cringed at my words.

“What kind of man keeps employees he can use as prostitutes?” I demanded. “What sort of government career is THAT? ‘Yes, boss… I’ll go out and shag whoever you want me to by pretending to be a prostitute.’ Who DOES that?”

“Irene Adler.” Sherlock stated quietly.

I shook my head, trying to get her presence out of my mind. “Besides her!”

“Spies and hot babes…” Sherlock added.

I stared at him, annoyed that he remembered the plotline of the movie we watched the night before last. With a sigh I picked up my socks and trousers to put them on.

“Mycroft took Hamish to visit Mother.”

“Yeah… he already told me when I called him this morning.”

Sherlock frowned, his eyes on his hands.

“What’s wrong now?” I demanded, impatient with his sulking.

“I saw what you did last night. It seemed I had a live feed…”

I reached down for my shirt and pulled it on. 

“She liked what you did with her…”

“Of course she liked it.” I replied as I buttoned up my shirt. “I know how to please a woman.” Finished with my dressing I went looking for my shoes.

“Can you…”

“What?” I asked, turning around to face him. 

Sherlock looked shy and vulnerable.

“What do you want?” I tempered my question with a bit more kindness, seeing how scared he looked.

“Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me what you did to make her like it.” 

“I didn’t make her like anything.”

“I watched the video five times… and each time I watched your technique and her reaction. At the beginning she wasn’t as into it. But you did something that made her… want you. Show me what you did.” Sherlock leaned back on the bed, kicking off his shoes and staring up at me expectantly.

I shook my head. “Sherlock… you don’t want this.”

“Then MAKE me want it! Show me what you did.”

I shook my head again. “It is check out time…”

“This room is reserved for tonight under your name. When the front desk gave me the key they told me that.”

“Hamish…”

“Hamish is with Mother.”

“Sherlock…”

Sherlock frowned and began to undo his buttons. “Do I have to beg? Is that what you want, John? My begging? I’ll beg for it…” We both stopped as Adler’s words came back to haunt us. “Twice…” Recovering quickly, Sherlock tossed away his shirt and started on his trousers, slipping them down his legs and tossing them aside. His pants soon followed revealing his erection. At least he was excited about the idea. “John? Please…”

Numbly I began to undress, focusing on Sherlock’s knee so I didn’t have to watch him staring at me with interest as I undressed before him. With the last of my clothes on the floor beside his I climbed onto the bed and sat beside where he lay, staring up at me. Lightly I touched his thigh, noting how he flinched slightly with my touch.

“Please… John…” Sherlock whispered, licking his obscenely full bottom lip.

“What would you have us do?” I asked him.

“Whatever you want…”

“I can want a lot…”

“It’s yours.”

I shook my head. 

Sherlock opened his legs a little wider, a hand idly reaching down to check himself. “Just… do it.”

I stared at him. What would I want done to me if I was still a virgin and didn’t know about physical pleasure? What would I expect my first time to be like? What did Sherlock really expect of me? I crouched down, staring at his penis. It wasn’t too much different than my own. Lightly I breathed on it, watching it twitch in reaction. I heard his breath catch and I glanced up to check his reaction. Sherlock’s eyes were wide, dilated. Licking his lower lip he stared back at me, his full attention upon me. I sat up and watched disappointment cross his face. “Have you ever done this before?”

His head made a quick shake to indicate a negative. 

“What is your sexual experience?”

“I... haven’t… transport.”

“Right… transport.” I licked my own lips and reached down to catch him in my hand. I didn’t think about what I was doing while I did it. I had my eyes closed in the beginning as I felt him touch the back of my throat, my nose in his pubic hair. I gave him a few strokes and tried not to think about how Sherlock Holmes’ cock was stuffed into my mouth. But I couldn’t ignore him for long with his hands on the back of my head and my name whispered like a dirty prayer on his lips. I pulled off and gauged his reaction.

Sherlock panted softly, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “John…” My name again was almost filthy with his need for more.

I crawled over him and attacked his lips with my own, forcing my tongue into his mouth. For a moment he sputtered, unsure how to handle my intrusion before he finally relaxed into it, teasing my tongue with his own. I felt his hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I pulled back enough to rest my forehead against his as my hips have a gentle thrust against him.

“Fuck…” His breath was warm against my lips and I kissed him again as my body rubbed. I could feel both of us hard between our bellies, grinding against him. 

“Is this what you want?” I whispered against his lips, punctuating my words with kisses. 

“More… I want more.” 

I rested against him, forehead to his as I panted for air. “What more do you want?”

“All of it…” Sherlock pushed my hair from my face. “What you did to her… I want it.”

“But you’re a man…” I chuckled softly.

“Then bugger me.” Sherlock swallowed hard. 

“I don’t have the right supplies for that.” I started to move again, hoping it would help him to feel me on top of him. 

“Do you think I care? I want to… feel you.”

“It will hurt.” I responded, kissing his lips to silence him.

His hands pushed me back and he made a face. “John… Please… Fuck me.”

“The orifice you want me to use doesn’t naturally have lubrication.” I countered.

“Then FIND some!” Sherlock snarled back.

His impatience was endearing but I didn’t want to hurt him. Instead I reached down to take him in my hand and began to work him from root to tip. “There are other ways to fuck…” I kissed his lips as he gasped with pleasure. 

“Take me… please, John…”

I could see I wasn’t going to win against his resolve to have me fuck him so I crawled back down his body to take him in my mouth. I hoped at least my tongue would be a distraction. 

“John… John… Please…” His begging was soft and breathy from my work. 

I paused for a moment to suck on my finger and pushed it down to slide into him. Sherlock nearly screamed as he arched his back. When he settled again I wiggled my finger inside of him. “That’s me… I’m inside of you…” I returned my attention to his cock as I pushed my finger in deeper and sought out the bundle of nerves that would make him squirm. I knew I hit it when he tried to roll over onto my head to push in deeper. I resisted and he settled for throwing a leg over my shoulder to pull me closer. 

“John…”

My eyes met his and I could see a sort of misery there. I pulled back a bit. “What is it?”

“This isn’t enough.”

I smiled and climbed back up his body, removing my finger as I went. “It will have to be for now.”

“No…” Sherlock whispered while attempting to roll me over. I finally allowed it and found myself on my back with his impossibly long torso towering above me. Straddling me he stared down at my cock next to his own. Both were hard but his was damp from my saliva. Experimentally he moved, rubbing us together. “My transport requires this…”

“Fuck your transport…” I mused, my eyes staring at his left nipple.

I caught his predatory smile in my peripheral vision and focused on it instead. “Exactly.” His hips gave a rougher thrust.

“You can’t even take my finger…”

Sherlock leaned in close, our lower bodies crushed together. “I’ll learn.”

“Not if you move out…”

With a frustrated sigh Sherlock threw himself off of me and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “That again…”

“It’s pretty important.” I rolled onto my side to face him. “I have to think about Hamish…”

“I don’t see why…”

“He’s a child! And he’s your son. That’s your DNA turning him into a miniature version of you that throws his cereal all over the floor and laughs manically about it. I have to think about who will be positive role models in his life.”

“Too late… Mycroft is already involved.”

“He needs you. I’m his daddy but you’re his father.”

“Does he need the Woman too? She’s his mother.”

It was a bit of a low blow and I rolled away to stare up at the ceiling, biting my lips. “I have to be careful who I date… who I allow into our little family.”

“Such as prostitutes that work for my brother?”

I glared at the ceiling, chewing on my lips. We were both silent for a long time, lost in our own worlds. Finally I spoke up. “I haven’t dated… not once since Christmas before you died. It’s been… almost four years since I even had a woman look at me with something other than pity. I just needed… something other than my hand. I woke up yesterday with your hand on me… and it reminded me of just how much I gave up for you… the sacrifices I made to you and your child… I wanted to feel loved… even if it’s fake. I’m weak like that.”

Sherlock was silent during my outburst and I glanced sideways to make sure he was still there, listening. His eyes were open and he blinked up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you with it. I love you. I’ve loved you for… actually I can’t remember when I first realized it… it was probably after Irene pointed it out to me. I was probably a little in love with you before that… my girlfriends seemed to figure it out…” I bit my lips again, thinking about the women I dated. The later ones had been female versions of Sherlock at least in appearance. “Why do you want to sleep with me? That’s not what you wanted yesterday…”

“I jumped for you.”

I stared at him, a look of vulnerable sadness on his face that nearly broke my heart. But I also knew he could be messing with me. “Sherlock…”

“I DIED for you. I faked my own death to protect you and keep you safe. Isn’t that important? Doesn’t that mean something to you?” 

“Yes, of course it does.”

“If you want more from me… then I’ll give you everything. Everything… John.” Reaching out he held my face in his hands, looking me over. “You can have my body… you can have my soul. It’s yours. It’s been yours.” Nervously he bit his lip, causing my heart to break a little more.

“That doesn’t mean we have to sleep together.” I replied carefully. “I can keep my hands to myself.”

“But then you’ll sleep with someone else…” 

“Sherlock…” With a sigh I pulled away from his grip to stare at the ceiling.

“I find myself aroused when we share a bed. I wake up and feel… I want to touch you and have you touch me. My body craves things I have no control over and it scares me.”

“So… you are attracted to me?” I whispered.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Sherlock indicated his erection on his hip.

“You don’t want to be…”

Sherlock blinked at me before looking away. “No… of course not… but this is what it is.”

I cuddled up against him, lightly touching his chest and stomach with my fingertips. “I like breasts… and other female parts… but I like your parts too.” It sounded just a little silly, I know. My hand covered his genitals and squeezed them. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.” The intensity in his eyes made me shiver. I rolled over on top of him, settling with my legs outside of his as we rested chest to chest. Sherlock kept his eyes on me.

I rolled my hips, watching his reaction to the simple movement. His eyes glanced down at where our chests touched. Sitting up I let him watch as I wrapped my hands around us, beginning slow, long strokes. “I’m touching you.”

Sherlock trembled a moment. “I know.”

Releasing myself I stroked him as I stared at him. “My fist surrounding you…”

Sherlock seemed to relax against the pillow with a soft grunt, keeping eye contact. “I still want more.”

“You can’t have more right now…” I replied thumbing his urethra, using my other hand to play with his bullocks 

“John…” Sherlock sighed with a hurt look in his eyes.

I shifted positions so we were in a loose 69 with me leaning over him to take him in my mouth. 

“Fuck… John…” Sherlock whispered when I swallowed him to the root. I felt his hands on my own hips attempting to position me as he lightly explored me. His tongue lightly teased me and I hummed around him. All at once I found myself on my back with Sherlock attempting to straddle my head. I kept my fist on him so he couldn’t thrust in too deep and choke me. A warm wetness engulfed me and I moaned in agreement, letting him do as he pleased. Too soon his hips were frantically moving to reach his completion. His moans and hums helping me along. I could barely breathe with his grinding into me. His mouth pulled off and he began to beg and moan as he fucked my throat. I reached up with my free hand to push a finger into his ass, causing him to cry out and cum. I swallowed as much as I could, choking a bit on the amount that didn’t seem to end. Finally Sherlock rolled off. “Oh… Shit…”

I sat up and reached down to fist myself. 

Sherlock pushed my hand away and in a few moments I found myself turning around so I had one of his beautiful thighs between my legs. I used his hip, clinging to him as I shamelessly humped his leg like a dog. “That’s it, John…” Sherlock whispered and quickly my mind went blank as wave upon wave of pleasure rolled through me. I collapsed atop him, uncaring that my cum was all over his hip and side. “Well… Fuck…”

^.~

I picked up my baby, swinging him around before settling him in my arms. “Hello, sweetheart… how was Grandmother Holmes?”

“Benny miss Da…” Hamish made the skeleton kiss my lips. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. Did you protect Hamish?”

“Yes.” Hamish confirmed. I held him tighter, taking in the smell of his hair. Of course my mother-in-law used a different shampoo. Is that what she was now? My mother-in-law? We somewhat started our relationship as if I was Sherlock’s widow. I was adopted by his family post-humus for the sake of Hamish, really. It wasn’t until he appeared on my doorstep that I was seen as something more than Sherly’s Doctor Friend. I was Sherly’s Doctor. I belonged to Sherlock, tied to him in a family way with the son I cared for. “Da?”

“Yes, my darling?” I returned my focus to the toddler in my arms.

Hamish pointed at Sherlock who stood behind me near the door. “S’Lock.”

“Yes, that’s Sherlock.” I set the boy on his feet and knelt down before him. “Would you like Sherlock to come live with us?”

Hamish hugged Benny tighter and gave Sherlock an assessing look over my shoulder. Returning his focus to me he blinked his enormous blue eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I hugged and kissed him before picking him up again. “Sherlock is going to be your Papa. Can you say, ‘papa’? 

“Papa.” Hamish smiled coyly at the detective.

I set the boy in Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock stared back at me, almost terrified. “What do I do?”

“Hold him.” I kept a hand on Hamish’s back in case he decided to squirm away and freak Sherlock out.

“Papa sleep with Benny?” Hamish asked.

“Papa and Daddy will sleep together. Benny will still sleep with you.” I answered.

“Oh… ok.” Hamish made the skeleton kiss Sherlock’s cheek. “Nice, Papa.”

“John… I don’t know what to do…” Sherlock breathed, staring at the miniature version of himself in his arms.

“You’re doing fine.”

\--Fin


End file.
